


Numb

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dancing, Face-Sitting, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Public Display of Affection, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It transpires that Rihanna is an aphrodisiac.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Numb - Rihanna ft. Eminem.

Mickey was going to develop epilepsy. At this point, it was inevitable. The spectrums of cheap colours illuminating the heaving mass of bodies on the dance floor were surely rewiring his fucking brain.

“Too fucking bright,” he murmured against Ian’s mouth.

Ian ground hard against him; fingers digging into Mickey’s hips as he moved them in time to the pounding music, “Quit griping.”

Mickey wasn’t even sure how it had happened. He loathed dancing. He couldn’t fucking dance. The idea of gyrating and grinding to some piece of shit electronic number repelled him. Always had. So how in the name of God had he wound up caught in the middle of a sexually charged mosh pit with Ian practically dry humping him?

 

_Ecstasy…in the air. I don’t care._

 

Oh fuck. Mickey grimaced; the terrible familiarity of the song transporting him back to being subjected to several drunk lap dances. Ian laughed a little; pressing a soft kiss to Mickey’s cheek.

“Not drunk enough for this shit,” Mickey groaned.

“A: You’re fucking wasted and B: you love this song,” Ian said, “Turns you on.”

Mickey raised a sceptical eyebrow, “The fuck it does.”

 

_Can’t tell me nothing._

“Gets you hard,” Ian mouthed at Mickey’s neck; leaving a warm, damp patch behind his ear.

“Fuck off,” Mickey muttered, pressing himself closer to Ian and rocking their hips together. This wasn’t dancing, he assured himself. It was succumbing to a growing hard on. Nothing else. The song had nothing to fucking do with it.

_I’m impaired. The worse for wear._

 

Ian kissed him; soft, slow and lingering. Mickey could feel his smile, “Admit it. This song turns you on.”

“Fuck _off_ ,” Mickey said; voice trembling slightly as his stupid, traitorous body continued to grind against Ian incessantly. He let his hands slide up Ian’s back and grip his hair; pulling his head back to suck the underside of his jaw. He felt rather than heard Ian’s resulting groan.

_‘Cause I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

 

Ian squeezed his ass, ducking his head to kiss Mickey hard, tongue shoving into his mouth. Mickey gasped and pushed his hands beneath Ian’s shirt; nails digging into his skin; moaning as Ian thrust a hand between them and rubbed the hard line of Mickey’s cock through his pants. Mickey pressed himself against Ian’s palm; peripherally aware of the people dancing inches away. They could fucking watch for all Mickey cared.

 

_I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

 

“Fuck, I love you like this,” Ian breathed, grinding his hips forward, “Want to make you come right here.”

 

_I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

 

Mickey felt his knees go weak; fear, embarrassment and crippling arousal twisting up inside him. Fuck, he was so hard; the pressure of Ian’s hand not nearly enough.

 

_Can’t you see…ain’t it clear? I don’t care._

 

Mickey reached up and pinched Ian’s nipples; one then the other, until Ian dropped his head and unbuttoned the top four buttons of Mickey’s shirt. He nosed his way back up, trailing a wet path with his tongue before biting down hard at the side of Mickey’s neck. The pain was instant and unrelenting; drawn out further as Ian sucked at the throbbing bruise.

 

_Get closer to me, if you dare._

Mickey grasped Ian’s jaw and pulled him forward for a kiss. Ian sighed against his mouth as their tongues slid together. He bit Mickey’s lip softly, then slightly harder; pulling it gently away from his gum line before releasing it. Mickey relaxed his grip on Ian’s jaw and gently tipped his head to the side to mouth just below his ear. Ian shivered; hands gliding the length of Mickey’s back.

_I double dare._

 

With a final nip to Mickey’s lower lip, Ian pulled back with a smile and pressed his lips against Mickey’s ear, “I’m going to wreck you tonight. You’re going to feel it for fucking days.”

“Fuck,” Mickey tried to remember how breathing worked, “Yes.”

 

_‘Cause I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

 

“Going to tongue fuck you,” Ian’s tongue darted out briefly to lick the shell of Mickey’s ear, “Want you to ride my face.”

Mickey’s legs nearly gave the fuck out at that. He clutched Ian’s shoulders desperately and crushed his face in the crook of Ian’s neck, breathing hard.

“Did I just say the magic fucking words?” Ian murmured, pressing his lips to the top of Mickey’s head.

Mickey moaned softly, “Want you so badly,” he mumbled; winding his arms around Ian’s waist and rocking against him. He felt Ian swallow.

“You’ve got me, baby. I’m all yours.”

 

_I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

Mickey couldn’t think of a response to that. Usually, Ian iterated that Mickey was _his_ ; not the other way around. He shifted so his thigh slid between Ian’s legs, right up against his cock. He heard Ian’s breathing speed up as he began to rut against it; hand sliding up into Mickey’s hair and tightening it into a fist.

“So fucking hot,” Mickey heard himself mutter, “Fucking beautiful.”

“Going to make you feel so good, baby,” Ian moaned, pulling Mickey’s head back and kissing him. Mickey arched against him as Ian’s tongue fucked into his mouth, “Going to make you come so fucking hard.”

 

_I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

“Need you,” Mickey managed to gasp. Ian pulled back, appraising Mickey with an oddly contemplative expression.

“How badly?”

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned and dug his thumbs hard into the hollows of Ian’s hips, “Badly. So fucking badly.”

“Home or bathroom stall?” Ian traced Mickey’s jawline with his forefinger, “Or I could jerk you off right here.”

“Don’t care,” Mickey gasped, “Anywhere.”

 

_I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going numb…_

 

Ian appraised him; pupils blown, cheeks flushed. Thin trickles of blood oozed from the small imprints of teeth in his lower lip. He brushed Mickey’s hair back before gently tracing the curve of his jaw with two fingers, eyes fixed on Mickey’s mouth. He brushed Mickey’s lip with his forefinger and pressed down.

“Open,” he murmured.

Mickey complied and allowed Ian to push both fingers into his mouth. They slid over his tongue; back and forth until Ian tapped Mickey’s cheek with his free hand.

“Suck.”

Mickey did; taking care to scrape Ian’s knuckles a little. Ian’s eyes fluttered closed, pushing the pads of his fingers to the back of Mickey’s tongue. Mickey moaned quietly and sucked harder, imagining those fingers elsewhere; warm and slick, taking him apart.

“Fuck,” Ian breathed, pulling his fingers free. Mickey almost whined at the loss.

“Ian, please, I need…”

“Not here,” Ian resolved, pressing their foreheads together, breathing hard, “Home. Now.”

Mickey sure as hell wasn’t complaining; he was too far fucking gone. He let Ian lace their fingers together and tug him through the throng; distantly hoping that no one felt inclined to look down. The jut of his boner was fucking obscene.

 

_I’m going numb, I’m going numb, I’m going…_

They walked like that toward the door of the club; Ian curling his arm around Mickey’s waist as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Cab or the L?” Ian asked.

Mickey groaned, “Whatever gets us home faster.”

“Ok, ok. Cab,” Ian pulled out his phone and started dialling.

Mickey bounced on the balls of his feet as Ian fired addresses and enquired about prices. Luckily, they’d opted to go to a piece of shit club on the south side as opposed to venturing north. His house wasn’t far. All he had to do was exert a little self-restraint until then.

“Thanks, man” Ian said before hanging up, “Five minutes, baby.”

Mickey nodded, staring resolutely at his shoes. He didn’t trust himself to look Ian in the eye; lest he succumbed to his overwhelming desire to drop to his fucking knees right there on the sidewalk. He heard Ian chuckle.

“Look at me.”

Mickey shook his head, “Can’t.”

“Come on,” Ian stepped forward, “Need to see that pretty face.”

Mickey hesitated; concentrating on the scuff marks on his boots before raising his head and meeting Ian’s eye. He swallowed and willed himself to stay still.

Ian’s eyes were wide; a flush creeping steadily up his neck. His hair was damp with sweat and his chest was heaving.

“Fuck,” Mickey breathed.

Ian smiled and reached forward; seizing the lapels of Mickey’s jacket and pushing him backwards against the wall. He ground hard against him.

“So fucking hot,” he whispered as Mickey clutched at his hips and moaned. Mickey could feel Ian’s erection rubbing against his, the slow roll of his hips, the hard scrape of his fingernails across Mickey’s ass.

“Jesus,” Mickey heard someone to the left of them gasp. He felt Ian smile against his neck.

“Looks like we have an audience,” he whispered, pressing a kiss beneath Mickey’s jaw. Mickey squirmed a little.

“They just want what I’ve got,” he pushed a hand between them and palmed Ian’s dick; his own cock pulsing at Ian’s subsequent moan, “Fuck, you’re so hard.”

Apparently eager to drive the point home, Ian pushed his hips forward and rubbed himself against Mickey’s palm, fingernails digging in the small of Mickey’s back, “Do something about it then.”

Mickey laughed quietly, squeezing him lightly, “Fucking exhibitionist.”

“You can’t say shit,” Ian kissed him softly, “How many times have you let me fuck you in an alley? In a bathroom stall?”

Mickey smiled, “There’s a line, baby.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mickey burrowed his hand beneath Ian’s jacket. His skin was fever hot; slightly damp in places, “Limits, you know?”

Mickey slid his thumb over Ian’s nipple; kissing his neck as he moved to the other. Ian groaned at the first twisting pinch; hips jerking forward instinctively. Mickey kept it up; squeezing, pinching, rubbing until Ian was gasping and rutting hard against Mickey’s hand.

“Hey, boys.”

Mickey grimaced and went to withdraw his hand; only to have Ian press against him more purposefully.

“What?” Ian snapped.

“Ride around the block?”

Mickey snorted and ducked his head to mouth at Ian’s throat, “We look like a couple of fags for sale to you?”

“Yes.”

Mickey tensed at that and pulled back. Ian clicked his tongue impatiently but nevertheless stepped away, sensing the impending standoff. He muttered something along the lines of “leave it,” but the words lacked enough conviction for Mickey to ignore them and round on his newly cultivated nemesis.

The guy was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, a cigarette held between his teeth. Mickey gave him a once over; eyes narrowing as he clocked the guy’s hard on.

“This ain’t Macy’s, bitch,” Mickey cracked his knuckles, “You ain’t window shopping.”

The guy grinned, “You’re dry humping against the wall of a bar called Man Handler.”

Mickey took a step forward; pushing down the impulse to eviscerate the presumptuous motherfucker. He could feel the remnants of his teenage rage; born from years of repression. Knee jerk reactions and all that. “Watch yourself, princess.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” the guy pushed away from the wall, eyes still trained on Mickey as he gestured to Ian, “Give the twink one from me.”

Mickey started forward, all too ready to beat the guy to a bloody pulp, before a pair of hands gripped his upper arms and pulled him back. He struggled a little but allowed Ian to wind his arms around his chest and hold him. He settled for spitting on ground and staring daggers. “Why don’t you fuck off before I give you a broken spine to go with that limp wrist?”

“That’s enough,” Ian murmured in his ear as the guy shrugged and walked away, “Not worth it.”

“Fucker thinks he can get what he wants just because he’s got a Rolex and a three piece,” Mickey disentangled himself from Ian’s grip, “That shit happens way too often.”

“We’re hot,” Ian shrugged, “Bound to happen, right?”

“Narcissist,” Mickey muttered, “Where’s our fucking cab?”

“Oh, he pulled up while you were playing Rottweiler,” he gestured to the silver Honda parked on the other side of the street, “Figured you needed to blow off some steam. Told him to wait.”

“Rather be blowing you,” Mickey raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a suggestive manner.

Ian rolled his eyes, “Get in the fucking car, Mick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath. Straight up porn.

The journey home was a blur; everything waning into a nonsensical haze of lights, colours and drunken rambling. Mickey felt lips moving against his throat; a hand groping at his crotch. The driver said something. The car juddered. Ian licked at his collarbone. The car slowed. The grip on his cock loosened. Something about money. Wait. Something about being _short_ of money.

Mickey fought to engage his alcohol and arousal addled brain, “Don’t look at me. Broke as a motherfucker.”

Ian sighed and dug further in his pockets. He retrieved a couple of crumpled bills and tossed them at the driver, “Here.”

Mickey squinted and saw the driver scowl, “You’re still two dollars short.”

Ian snorted and opened the door, reaching over to grab Mickey’s forearm, “Going to have to deal with it. S’all we got.”

The driver’s jaw tightened as he pocketed the cash and turned his attention back to the empty street. Mickey heard him mumble something indistinct.

“The fuck you say?” he managed to demand as he was yanked from the cab. Ian shoved him and kicked the door shut.

“Leave it.”

Mickey sighed but allowed Ian to steer him to the front door. It took Ian several jabs at the lock before he could ease the door open and pull Mickey inside. The room was dark aside from the dull glow of streetlights through the flimsy net curtains; the faint smell of a joint and the resonances of cooking lingering in the air.

Just as the door closed with an obstinate creak, hard hands seized Mickey’s shoulders and pushed him face-first into the wall. Mickey’s arms jerked up in front of him on impulse; bracing himself against the plaster as opposed to being flattened against it. Hot breath fanned across the nape of his neck.

Ian slid his hands up the wall to rest either side of Mickey’s head, “Going to let me put you in your place, tough guy?”

“Like to see you—“ Mickey’s breath hitched as Ian rolled his hips against his ass.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Mickey suddenly lurched backwards, shoving Ian away and turning, “Ain’t nobody’s bitch, Gallagher.”

Ian cocked his head to one side, eyebrows raised, “You just used a double negative.”

“So?”

“So grammatically speaking, you are my bitch,” Ian stepped forward, eyes fixed on Mickey’s mouth “My needy little bitch.”

“Mm. Goes both ways,” Mickey pushed off the wall, “We’ll see who comes out on top.”

Ian grinned, “Won’t need to. Bitch.”

“Fuck,” Mickey seized the front of Ian’s shirt and yanked him forward, “Prove it.”

Ian grinned, “Gladly.”

 

In their dimly lit bedroom they kicked off their shoes, grabbed each other and fell roughly onto the bed. Ian fumbled with the zipper of Mickey’s jeans before hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband and yanking them down. Any resistance, any desire for dominance upped and fled, leaving Mickey with a relentless mental stream of _fuckmefuckmefuckme_.

Mickey spread his legs; watching as Ian got his own pants undone and struggled out of them, boxers snagging on his hard on.

“Christ,” Mickey gasped as Ian rolled on top of him. Sleek limbs enfolded clumsy ones; erections pressing tight together.

“You feel so good,” Ian breathed in his ear.

Mickey hooked his calves around the back of Ian’s thighs and rocked his hips in response. Ian groaned; a harsh, guttural sound that Mickey had never heard before. He stared at Ian with wide eyes, lips parted, “Desperate, huh?”

Ian simply ducked his head and sealed Mickey’s mouth with his own, evading the issue entirely. The kiss was deep and rough; Ian alternating between running his tongue over Mickey’s back teeth and sucking hard at his lower lip. Mickey raised his arms above his head and thrusted his ribcage against Ian’s.

Ian pulled back with a final nip to Mickey’s tongue; fixing him with an expression of desperation and naked arousal. His eyes and wet mouth glistened in the semi darkness.

“Want you to ride my face,” he said softly.

Mickey bit back a moan, “So you said.”

Ian lowered his head and sucked hard at Mickey’s nipple, “Want you to take what you want.”

Mickey wriggled slightly, eyes closing as Ian grazed his nipple with his teeth. He slid his hand through Ian’s hair and contemplated pushing his head lower.

“Up,” Ian murmured, rolling off and away.

Mickey sat upright and waited for Ian to shuffle back and lie with his head against the base of the headboard. He eyed Mickey expectantly.

“Well?”

Mickey shook himself out of his trance. What could he say; Ian painted a pretty picture lying with his head cushioned by two pillows, fingers tracing his chest idly. Mickey crawled up the bed and allowed himself to be hauled up until he was hovering over Ian’s face; knees either side of his head.

The tip of his dick brushed the cool wood of the headboard, leaving small, sticky-slick streaks. Ian smiled.

“So fucking smug,” Mickey groaned, “Need to stop that shit.”

Ian slid his hands around Mickey’s ass and pulled him down a little further, “You love it.”

“Whatever,” Mickey gripped the top of the headboard, “Get to work.”

Ian leant up and ran his tongue lightly across Mickey’s ass cheek, “Could say please.”

Mickey said nothing; merely rocked his hips impatiently. Physical hints would have to replace begging. He was too far gone for that. Thankfully, Ian seemed to take pity.

Mickey jolted at the first wet press of Ian’s tongue against his hole; a low moan proceeding his resultant gasp. His fingers dug into the wood of the headboard, his knuckles paling as his grip tightened with every maddening pass of Ian’s tongue, “Harder.”

Ian hummed his consent and licked again; point of his tongue pushing hard enough to make Mickey shudder. He relinquished his grip on the headboard and reached backwards; spreading his cheeks still further.

Some feral sound ripped through Mickey’s teeth as Ian probed deeper. His heart pounded, blood roaring in his ears, his world diminishing solely to the sensation of Ian’s tongue spearing him open. He hitched his hips back almost reflectively, thighs trembling as he attempted to spread his legs wider.

“Ian… _fuck_ ,” Mickey almost wailed. “Please…” He wasn’t aware of what he was saying. Words were trivial, the relentless assault of Ian’s tongue driving the last remaining shreds of cogent thought from his mind. He was close. So fucking close.

“Why’re you begging?” Ian drew back, the loss of contact drawing a desperate sound from Mickey. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Please,” Mickey choked, “Let me come.”

Ian laughed softly, “You need it?”

“Yes, fuck…”

“Love watching you lose it like this,” Ian bit the meat of Mickey’s ass, “Doesn’t even take that much, does it?”

Without waiting for an answer, his tongue was back, licking hard enough to make Mickey cry out.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

His thighs shook uncontrollably. He might have been sobbing; his eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed in anguished pleasure. Ian made a small noise, hand sliding round to stroke Mickey’s inner thigh.

‘Fuck, Ian,’ he worked his hips back, desperate for something to push him over the edge, “Going to come…”

Ian’s grip on his thigh tightened and several things happened at once. Just as Ian thrust the tip of his tongue deeper, he simultaneously bought his hand down hard against Mickey’s ass. The shockingly sharp pain entwining with agonising pleasure, Mickey came hard, cock untouched. He came until his body ached with it, dick jerking again and again, painting his stomach and chest.

Two slicked fingers pushed at his hole, but he was loose already from the tongue fucking and barely needed it. They slipped in easily and Ian twisted them inside until he could rub lightly at Mickey’s prostate.

Mickey gripped the headboard and squirmed, “Fuck, please…”

He didn’t quite know what line of thought to heed. Part of him was desperate to push back against Ian’s hand; to let himself be finger fucked until he got hard again. The other half wanted to wriggle the fuck away and let himself recover while Ian jerked himself off.

Ian pressed a kiss to Mickey’s thigh, “Move for me, baby.”

That was that; the dilemma resolved by the quiet desperation in Ian’s voice. Mickey rocked his hips back and forth in small increments; Ian’s fingers right where he wanted them. His dick twitched as Ian began moving his fingers a little faster.

“That’s it,” Ian breathed, clocking Mickey’s growing hard on and adding another finger. Mickey whined a little; it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

“Ian,” Mickey gasped as Ian’s fingers grazed his prostate, “Fuck me.”

“Move down the bed. Hands and knees,” Ian said, without missing a beat.

Mickey shuffled backwards and positioned himself facing the end of the bed; fingers twisting in the sheets. He heard a condom packet being opened; the mattress dipping as Ian crouched over him. His stomach was sticky with sweat; his mouth hot as he mouthed at the side of Mickey’s neck.

Mickey shuddered at the first brush of Ian’s cock against his hole. His hips hitched back instinctively and suddenly Ian was sliding into him. He paused, letting Mickey adjust.

“You good?” he whispered, kissing the top of Mickey’s spine.

Mickey pushed his hips back impatiently, “Move.”

Ian slid his hands down to Mickey’s hips, taking care to dig his nails in as he complied. Mickey could feel Ian’s breath against his back; echoing his own ragged panting.

On the fifth thrust, Ian reached down and started stroking Mickey’s cock. Mickey tried to hold out. He did. But it took all of ten seconds before he was coming so hard, his arms gave out. Ian moaned as Mickey clenched around him; pounding Mickey’s ass mercilessly.

He kept moving even as Mickey’s knees slid out from under him and slumped flat against the bed. Mickey moaned softly; no words, just expressions of his contentment and pleasure as Ian rode him.

With a final groan, Ian’s hips stuttered and he shoved in hard; body tensing as he came. He gripped Mickey’s wrists and bit at the meat of his shoulder as he continued to ride out the aftershocks; still rocking his hips back and forth.

Mickey let slip a wounded groan as Ian’s cock pressed against his prostate, “Too much.”

Mickey heard Ian’s thick swallow, felt his lips press gently to the back of his neck before rolling to the side; pulling Mickey with him. Deft fingers swept across Mickey’s chest, pausing to gently rub at his nipples. Mickey flinched at the extra stimulation and wormed his way closer; burying his face into the crook of Ian’s neck.

Ian stroked his hair with a shaking hand, “You ok?”

Mickey simply slid his arm around Ian’s waist and held him tighter. He couldn’t speak; too fucked out to formulate a simple sentence. He didn’t want to try.

Ian kissed the top of his head and pulled the sheet over them.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed.

Mickey kissed Ian’s jaw softly, “I know.”


End file.
